The High Lonesome 100

At the quiet start line on Thursday night, July 21st.

For the past several years I’ve been working through a progression of mountain races, from marathon distance up to 100K, with the long-term goal in mind of eventually giving a 100-miler a shot. And I figured if I were to invest all the time and effort necessary to run a 100-miler, I might as well pick a really cool one, even if it meant having to wait a few years to get in. Turns out I didn’t have to look very far from home, nor was it all that difficult to land on the High Lonesome 100 in the southern-Sawatch range.

The High Lonesome 100 is a relatively new race, first run in 2017 (this year was its 5th running, excluding 2020). At some point in 2018 I learned of the race, took a look at it and decided it was going to be “the one”. It’s in my home range for starters (the Sawatch essentially begins in our backyard), it’s maintained a reputation of being very well-run thanks to a host of world-class volunteers and one very dedicated race director, and the course itself has always gotten rave reviews from runners.

A rendering of the High Lonesome based on my GPX track with aid stations marked. The course traces out a huge loop from the Mt. Princeton Hot Springs down to Monarch Pass and back, with a single out-and-back up and over Laws Pass. Click to enlarge.

The course itself is nothing to scoff at, racking up roughly 22,500 ft of elevation gain over 101 miles. It climbs over 5 passes and spends a good amount of time in the alpine, with a high point over 13,000 ft. It’s a true mountain race like some of the ones I’d run before, just a lot longer.

Elevation profile of the course. Click to enlarge.

I applied to the lottery three years in a row and volunteered at the Hancock aid station last summer before I was finally awarded a spot on the start list in January. While lotteries can be annoying I didn’t mind the race’s model of encouraging prospective runners to volunteer in exchange for boosted lottery odds. I also did my trail work with the High Lonesome crew on Mt. Yale in June. So needless to say I had been around the race and felt like I was already a part of it long before running it, which was actually pretty cool.

At the start line on Friday July 22nd, 5:59am.

Aside from the training aspect of these races, which is extensive, I came to learn there’s also a ton of logistics to work out with pacers, crew, drop bags, nutrition… essentially all the small things that can be overlooked or screwed up with shorter races that you want dialed in to have any chance of success at the 100 mile distance. I had an awesome 4-person team in Dave (Zambo) and Dylan, who both paced me for the second half of the race, as well as Anna-Lisa and Zerr who shuttled both of them around the course and helped crew me at various aid stations. Not to mention someone had to watch the dogs too 🙂

Climbing up Little Brown’s towards Antero around 15 miles into the race.

Up and over the high point, descending the familiar Antero road with Cronin Peak in back.

The first 25 miles of the race went by pretty quickly. I relished the big climb up to the White/Antero saddle and intentionally took it pretty slow. Then came the big descent down the road and a long stroll paralleling Chalk Creek to the town of St. Elmo. From there the afternoon really heated up along the Laws Pass climb over to Cottonwood and back. This section was neat in that it was the only time in the race where runners were crossing paths going different directions, which gave a general sense of where a lot of the field was at.

Re-ascending the Cottonwood side of Laws Pass.

On top of Laws Pass on the way back to St. Elmo. Photo by Mile 90 Photography.

Hitting St. Elmo for the second time meant a large chunk of the race’s elevation gain/drop was over with, which was nice from a mental standpoint. From there an easy road climb up to the remote aid station of Tincup leads back into more singletrack and another climb back into the alpine. I hit this section in the early-evening and enjoyed the views and solitude as the field was pretty spread out by this point in the race.

The remote and beautiful Alpine Tunnel section of the course around mile 45.

Only about 2 miles from Hancock after some welcomed rain rolled through the area.

After what seemed like a long stretch through Alpine Tunnel I reached Hancock, the halfway point of the race, at 7:10pm. Zambo, Anna-Lisa and Zerr were there to greet me and it sure was nice to see them. I plopped down in a chair for a long time and refueled, changed my clothes and shoes, and tended to a few blisters on my feet as the three of them in addition to aid station staff buzzed around tending to my every need. Feeling refreshed like a car coming out of a long pit stop, Zambo and I said our goodbyes to the girls and headed on out. He would be joining me for the next 35 miles and the most crucial part of the entire race.

The crew at Hancock, in addition to my robed doppelganger in the background.

Out of the aid station and feeling like a new man. Photo by Zambo.

Right off the bat having Zambo there was a breath of fresh air. We were able to catch up and discuss what was working for me and what wasn’t, and plan for the night sections ahead. Just having a friend along with things to talk about made for a nice distraction, and every distraction no matter how big or small serves the important purpose of eating away at mileage.

Atop Chalk Creek Pass at sunset. That’s 13er Hancock Peak on the left, and the rest of the western Sawatch off in the distance.

Soon after leaving the pass we were plunged into darkness, which naturally slowed our (or my) pace down a bit. The skies were clear under the new moon and the temps were pretty reasonable. Couldn’t have asked for a better night all things considered.

The Lost Wonder hut at mile 56. The aid station crew had a lively party going in addition to keeping the oven churning out homemade pizza all night long.

Next up from Lost Wonder was what many consider to be the race’s crux – a big climb from Boss Lake up a steep headwall to the crest of the Continental Divide north of the Monarch ski area. I’d say this was probably the low point of the race for me, which I suppose wasn’t unexpected. We took it slow and steady, making sure to look up occasionally and admire the starry skies. After gaining the ridge it was onto several more miles of rolling high terrain along one of the more beautiful stretches of the course… in the daytime when you can actually see that is.

What’s on the menu at the Purgatory aid station? Pork broth and noodles, which might have been the best thing I’ve tasted in my life. Photo by Mile 90 Photography.

Past Purgatory, and Monarch, and down the big descent from Monarch Pass to the Fooses aid station, things continued to be a blur. It’s amazing how on the one hand the night seemed to pass quickly, but on the other it felt like a lifetime before a faint breath of the sun could be seen on the horizon.

The Fooses tequila bar at mile 75, still open for business at 6am.

By sunrise we were past Fooses and onto the homestretch of the course – the long, undulating section of the Colorado Trail stretching from the southeastern flank of Mt. Shavano back to the Princeton Hot Springs. The crew was waiting for me again at Blanks, where I said goodbye to Zambo and picked up Dylan for the remaining 17 miles. It was a hot, tough final stretch which seemed to go on forever. I have to thank Dylan for trying his best to keep my mind occupied as the final miles slowly crept by. He did a great job of plodding me along during my low points and helping me take advantage of the random winds I would get.

The crew again at the Blanks Cabin aid, mile 84.

With only 3 miles to go, Anna-Lisa joined the party for the final climb up to the finish line. Photo by Zerr. 

On down the final descent under the midday heat the finish line was so close I could taste it. All that remained was a several hundred foot grunt up “Swear Hill”, which Dylan and I made sure to substantiate by letting a few four letter words fly.

At long last, it was finished. Photo by Dylan. 

I finished in 32:07:12, which equated to 44th place overall out of 96 finishers, with 47 runners who did not finish. The full field of runners and results can be found here.

This year’s High Lonesome finishers, each with a custom-engraved whiskey bottle in-hand. Photo by Mile 90 Photography. Click to enlarge.

Maybe the coolest aspect of this race was the sense of community all striving for the same goal. Rather than the competition among the field that you get with some shorter races, the overriding sense at High Lonesome was of everyone working together to simply cross the finish line. Not that the top of the field and course record setters don’t deserve huge praise, but for anyone who crossed that finish line or even tried and failed, this event was a culmination of a huge amount of training and dedication that each and every person who showed up at the start line the day prior should hang their hat on.

Definitely the hardest bottle of whiskey I’ve ever earned.

A huge thank you goes out to my entire crew, to Zambo for being literally the best pacer I can imagine from a theoretical standpoint even, to Dylan for helping me close the thing out with his youthful competitive energy, to Anna-Lisa for supporting me throughout all of the long training runs and sacrificing her entire weekend to help me on this crazy endeavor, to Zerr for being there and pulling the nasty ass socks off my feet not once but twice, to all of the volunteers and fellow racers, Caleb the race director and everyone else who made this event happen. It truly is a special one.

On a final note which I was debating even mentioning, but in the spirit of highlighting something that I learned/could’ve done better… around a quarter of the way through the course, coming down from Laws Pass the second time, I had some minor Achilles tendonitis spring up and stick with me for the remainder of the race. Thankfully it was manageable with Ibuprofen, KT tape and poles (and frankly, by walking instead of running) or I simply never would’ve finished. In hindsight I feel I made the classic mistake of overtraining with one too many big days and not enough recovery time too close to the race, spurred on by the fear of tackling something so much bigger than I’d done before.

I’m happy to have finished and have no complaints, but hardly being able to run at all for the final third of the course, which is the most runnable third, was frustrating to say the least. It was the only real blemish on an otherwise great race, and I hope it serves as a word of caution for anyone reading this who may be training for a race of their own – there comes a point where recovering and showing up to the start line at 100% becomes more important than cramming more training in. Seems obvious but we humans are stubborn and need reminders sometimes.

And with that, I’m done. Thanks for reading and happy trails 🙂